First Day Shopping ￦ith ￦

 

So we needed a few things for the apartment, and the school had organized a shopping day for new staff. We would be bussed into town, dropped off at a store, and then have our purchases transported back to our door. Although there were items I urgently needed, I was both curious to get out and see more of Jeju, and meet some of my neighbors.  Many of the other staff had arrived earlier and were a good source of information for Jon and I as we ventured out for the first time.

The bus headed towards the coast, past the tea plantations, plastic film greenhouses and small businesses offering stonework. Our first stop was a budget chain where everything was priced under $5 (￦5000). Surprisingly we found everything from wine glasses to cloth hangers and extension cords. The place was packed with stuff laid out over 3 floors. I had soon filled my shopping basket and was now using a laundry hamper to carry mops and cleaning supplies.  At the checkout I saw other shoppers with huge bags the size of a small child. We filled this, and then some, and packed it into the bus.  I did feel a twinge of guilt about the amount of cheap stuff each one of us was forced to purchase, knowing that it would all end up in a landfill sooner or later. But the truth is that it just wasn't practical to ship all our kitchen over to Jeju. I hope I can find someone to donate it to when I leave.

The bus then took us to an up scale supermarket near the World Cup soccer stadium. Brazil played here in 2002 and it certainly looks out of place on the southern coast of Jeju. Before doing our grocery shopping, we had lunch at McDonalds. Yes, I know that doesn't sound very cultural, but I was curious to see what was on the menu at a Korean McDonalds. I ordered a snack wrap from the electronic board, thinking it would be chicken like in the US. It turned out to be a crab cake. More interestingly, we shared a table with some school proctors, who take care of the boarding students. They answered all my questions and shared a bit of what it is like to be at a boarding school on Jeju. 

E-Mart is more than a supermarket: it carries Apple products and other electronics as well as several imported items.  I added a Nespresso machine to my cart and headed towards the bakery. We had been warned that Korea did not sell bread and that cheese products were rare. Here I found whole isles of breads and cheeses, although many were imported and very expensive. Much of the other items where frozen goods, all labeled in Korean.  So I used Google lens to translate the packaging. This helped me identify the chicken and pork sausages. I felt a little self-conscious using my phone to read all the labels, so I stuck to the more obvious foods.  I bought a bottle of what I think is soy sauce, but I'll have to taste it to actually find out.  Although we will probably eat out regularly and experience Korean cuisine, it is nice to have a few familiar tastes that remind us of home, like a cup of coffee in the morning. More importantly, I can now do laundry... if I can figure out the Korean washing machine.

Are you going there to ...live?

A valid question from our cab driver who had just picked us up with 8 pieces of luggage for a transfer to Seoul's Gimpo airport.  It was a hot, our domestic flight to Jeju island was leaving in under an hour, and we were struggling to lug around heavy suitcases, a bike box, guitar and set of golf clubs.  As much as I like traveling to new places, I dislike moving.  The unsettling process of going to a foreign country to work can take all the fun out of travel.

First, there is the exhausting process of applying for a work visa. Even though I am technically retired, I am still required to go through the process with Jon. There are endless forms to be filled out, documents to be notarized, and photos to be mailed. Then there is a lot of nervous waiting before you can make plans or buy plane tickets. Once we got the go ahead, we found there were no through flights to Jeju, which meant buying a separate ticket from Seoul on a flight from a different airport. I did plenty of online research as to how we could make this happen, but this is where AI fails. Most posts are made for Koreans going on holiday to the island of Jeju. There is no mention of the language difficulties or limited luggage size. 

We arrived in Seoul after a 14 hour flight with our various pieces of oversized luggage, too many to fit on two luggage carts. I had images of adventurers from the golden years of exploration arriving in bustling ports and having their shipping crates and trunks ferried off by charming locals.  Seoul airport is certainly bustling, but you are on your own. Most of the signage is in Korean, and the elevators are too small to fit more than a couple of regular size suitcases. My online research had told me to head for the airport bus, they 'limo', and buy tickets from a electronic kiosk. I had to ask for information three times before finding the bus station, and no one could tell us whether we could take a bike box.  It turns out we couldn't. The bus driver refused to let us board with our bags and boxes.  He told us to take a 'car van'.

Fortunately we went outside to the taxi rank and found a driver with a van. He didn't speak much English but communicated the price and converted it into dollars so we could understand.  In hind sight we should have gone directly to the taxi cabs, and not tried to navigate the elevators down to the bus station. We arrived in time to make our connecting flight to Jeju and no pieces of luggage were damaged or lost in the process. 

Now if we were joining the other holiday makers here, we would have booked a nice hotel not far from the airport for our first night.  But in our case we were picked up by our employer and taken to our new residence, picked out by them as conveniently close to work, but far from shops and restaurants. Also, it turned out we were on the second floor of a building with only one elevator. After hauling up the bags, I was ready for a shower and bed, but of course, there were no sheets on the bed or toiletries in the  bathroom.  We spent most of the night unpacking and making the beds. 

Today we explored the neighborhood without the use of Google Maps. Apparently there are regulations in Korea that prevent Maps from showing you different routes to drive or walk. So we found a Starbucks the old fashioned way, because we also don't have access to the app for delivery.  We did meet another teacher and her family at lunch who told us that things get better: she started out the same way but now lives in a house on the beach just 20 minutes away from school.  When you are traveling to live, then you have time on your side, and we will have time to shop for all those things we didn't bring... (like clothes hangers and wineglasses).

The Battle Hymn of the Grapes

 

Ten years ago, on returning to southern Minnesota for the summer, we discovered a local vineyard. Since this isn't the south of France, or California, we questioned the possibility that grapes would even grow in our area, let alone produce fine wine. Apparently the University of MN had created a hybrid that would withstand the weather and soil conditions in the midwest, and wineries were popping up all over. A year later we bought out first grape vines and planted them in the sunniest spot of our yard, my flower garden. Since then we have bought several more varieties and planted about the property, reading up on pruning techniques and building trellises.  

Now I cannot say that our vines are a complete success. Some die or get nibbled by rabbits and deer. We are not around to see the grapes ripen, and often the bunches are small and whither away. They don't respond well to dry weather, which means lots of watering. But we live in hope that a new year will bring a bumper crop that will make drinkable wine. I am also starting to question the point.

Today we talk of ecologically responsible gardens, that conserve water, minimize the use of pesticides, provide habitat for wildlife and pollinators. Our grapes really don't fit into this kind of garden. I am starting to look at my flowers in another way. They certainly attract pollinators.  I watch the butterflies and bees flutter and land on their favorites: bee balm, coneflower and milkweed.  I allow milkweed and Joe Pye weed to flourish, despite their size. And during the dry weather I notice that many of the native plants require no watering.  Black-eyed Susan and phlox grow, flower and seed themselves without any interference from me. But then, this should be obvious, because they are native and suited to this environment. 

I identify with the grapes, a non-native trying to put down roots in a foreign land. Wherever I go, I know I am welcome, but I do not really belong. I have to try harder to flourish, and I require more help and support than those who call that place their home.  In many places I have lived, I am fortunate to find local support in the form of locals who help me learn their ways and understand that I very much need their help.

These friends are similar to the native plants which are also non-invasive. They allow other plants to grow up around them, sharing the land. 

I do have to beware of the creeping bell flower which produces lovely purple bells, but left unattended will spread throughout the flower garden in a way that only weedkiller will control. There are some places that do not welcome visitors, strangers or foreigners, as they feel threatened. Those places choke the life out of you, force you to move on. 

 I have also noticed that tomato seeds from last year's crop will sprout and grow taller that the hot house plants a buy from the nursery. The seeds have earned their space, inheriting their suitability from their parents.  Though I may never feel like a native here, thriving in whichever place I choose to call home, I can wish this for my children.  Although none were born in the US, they are American and have a home here. They can call themselves natives, and that is something I have given them.

When Travel Doesn't Suit

 

We stayed in a charming vacation rental last week and really enjoyed the comfort of plush furnishings, pretty outdoor spaces and high end decor.  However, when we read the comments in the visitor book, we found various comments complaining of the quality of the pillows, number of towels, or lack of specific items of furniture. I was irked by the nit picking. The way I see it, if you require certain comfort items when you travel, you should bring your own, or stay home. And staying home was starting to look pretty good to me yesterday as I sat alone in a Walgreens parking lot at midnight. 

I was on my way to our family's annual 4th of July stay at the lake.  On the I was dropping off one passenger and picking up another in the Cities. On the whole, road travel in Minnesota is a breeze.  I was not at all worried about traveling at night, because I have a phone and a credit card. And as I had a bit of time to kill before picking up my son at the airport, I stopped for gas in west St Paul. This is a residential area I am unfamiliar with, but my phone directed me to the nearest Holiday station which turned out to be small with old pumps. The screen prompted: 'Card or Pay Inside'.  I inserted my card and got 'Sale cancelled'. I tried again and the screen went blank. I tried to start fueling and got 'Sale cancelled'. Once again I inserted my card, and this time it approved the sale but only gave me the options: 'Club card or Other ID'. I chose other ID and it asked for my phone number in order to send me text messages. It started to feel like I was in an alien country... why couldn't I just pump gas? I dubiously put in my phone number just to get 'Sale cancelled'.  I was about to give up and go elsewhere when I noticed the keypad had a CANCEL button. I kept pressing it until I got a 'Begin fueling'. I filled the tank and expected payment instructions but instead the screen just flashed: 'Thank you'.  So I left with a tank full of gas that I might or might not have paid for. 

I realized that I was lost and needed directions and a place to wait until the plane's arrival. So I pulled down the darkest side street in the city with no street lights or signs of life. I started to feel my aloneness. I pulled up the directions to a nearby Walgreens that advertised being open 24 hours. Driving in the dark is already a challenge, but having to hold my phone in one hand to follow directions made it worse. I think I probably ran a couple of red lights because I was concentrating so hard on Google maps. To make things worse, I started to received text messages which popped up and covered the directions. Any one-handed attempt to swipe them away made me lose everything and I had to reopen the app. I tried to prop the phone on the dash, but it kept falling to the floor.  My progress was erratic, but I eventually found the Walgreens where I rolled up the windows and locked the doors. 

By reading the texts I found that the flight had been delayed and I began to wonder about how safe my choice of waiting spot was. There were plenty of people around, but not people like me. They were skateboarders and several smokers. When one party came out with a pizza I decided to explore the store for a snack or drink while I waited. I was surprised to find all the shelves covered with plexiglass displaying the shampoo and deodorant in locked display cases. They must have a problem with shoplifting... maybe another reason not to hang around here too long. So when I received a text about another lot by the airport provided for cars waiting for passengers, I took off. 

The Cell Phone Waiting Lot  is bleak and hastily constructed with concrete barriers in the no-man's land between the terminals. However, this time I was surrounded by people like me. The heat forced people outside, pacing and talking on their phones. Although I felt safer, I also began to realize that I could just turn my car around and drive home to the comfort of my home. The flight had been delayed until the next morning, so I had 6 hours... I was very tempted to call it a day (or a night). But we don't travel just to find the comforts of home in another place.  Travel should be an adventure, exploring the unknown that might take us out of our comfort zone. It should provide us with a story to tell, of the new things we discovered.   So I checked into a cheap hotel, slept a few hours before picking up my son and continuing up to the lake where I am writing this account. 

The Pirate of the Air

 

I am leaving this island that has been my home on and off for 12 years. There is plenty to fret about as I navigate the last tasks of packing up and shipping out. I feel I need to get out and lift my mood so I take a walk.  Surprisingly it isn't raining... the recent storms have moved on.  I spot a frigate bird high above, soaring effortlessly on the ocean breezes. Suddenly it dives, attacking a much smaller Fairy Tern. Known as the 'pirate of the air'  these birds terrorize smaller birds into dropping or regurgitating their catch, which is then taken in midair. I am not going to use a cheap analogy of what is stealing my joy, but I am realizing that this curious scene did make me forget the past challenges and helped me concentrate on that which has brought me joy here on Kwajalein.

This island can be a challenging place to live: it's remote, lonely and without the comforts of home. If I am not careful, I will leave this place like Tom Hank's character on Cast Away, being rescued and asking for ice. So I went out to enjoy the sunshine, keeping to the ocean side to get the benefit of the breezes. I bumped into another couple who I haven't seen for a while and we reminisced of the old days when our families were with us and brought us joy.  I took time to comb the beaches for flotsam and sea life. I found the usual coconuts and flip flops, but also some blue lobster legs. A half full shampoo bottle covered in clams made me wonder how items end up washed up on this tiny speck of an island in the middle of the Pacific. 

The tide was coming in as I rounded the north end of the island, washing sea water over the reef into the lagoon. I laid my phone aside and took a dip in the warm water which has brought me so much joy snorkeling over the years: rays, sharks, clown fish and brilliant giant clams never ceased to take my breath away.  My next stop was a perfectly placed beach chair where I could sit on white sand with my feet in the waves. I couldn't resist another swim before continuing on to Emon beach to find a water fountain. I passed the A-frames and tables where we have met to enjoy a sunset and a picnic or party with friends and family. I am always surprised at how few people are at the beach, and the life guard has little to do. The water is safe swimming despite the abundance of hermit crabs and Huma-Humas. 

Now I start making my way home along the road by the lagoon towards the dock. This has great sunset viewing spots, more importantly, it has a lush variety of trees. I have found this a great place to identify and paint palms, acacia, huge shade trees and many more that were probably left behind when the residents of the trailers were turned out. I visit my favorite, Java Almond, with its delicate flowers and huge clusters of seed pods. I take photos that I can use as reference for botanicals. The dive flag is flying over the steps, and I climb up to view all the blues of the lagoon. There are snorkelers and a turtle surfaces showing me its beautiful mottled shell. This reminds me that we used to come down here most evenings to watch the sunset... before life got so busy. 

I also remember sitting on the bench waiting for the green flash that never happened; and going snorkeling in hopes of seeing something new and exciting, but finding a lot of nothing; and eating at the DFac but finding the food inedible and that they are out of most everything; and going to the snack bar where our family ate every Sunday right after church, only to find it no longer opens on Sundays; and going to work and finding the AC broken or the internet down; finishing work with no official sendoff or appreciation.  I could go on, but that would negate all the joy that I have experienced on this island, over the years.  So I just take another walk... and remember with gratitude the good times.

Moving Day Looms

 

This picture I posted reminds me of another move, a decade ago. As a family we have moved 10 times, not a record by any means. But these overseas moves have all come with their own challenges. Unlike being in the military, Jon and I are paying our own shipping and taking advantage of the opportunity to get rid of what we no longer need.  That means agonizing over decisions on whether to ship, sell or throw away.

In our early days of moving positions it was much easier. Most international schools paid for a generous shipping allowance and we were able to donate our castoffs to our cleaning lady or nanny. We simply got on the plane, and left someone else to clear out our stuff. I do remember the enormous relief when we finally managed to sell our 30 foot sailboat and car days before we were due to leave. 

We had our work cut out for us when moving from Kwajalein after happily filling our family housing for eight years with necessary clutter. We had patio sales, we advertised in the local printed newsletter, and even created a personal website where people could buy with a click of a button. As there was no online Facebook market place, we relied on the island's 'Bargain Bazaar' to take most of the items, like clothes, that we couldn't easily sell. The local charity shop could get things into the hands of the local Marshallese who use them, rather than have the items ending up in the trash.  I remember this as a stressful time, as we haggled about prices, and whether we were too quick to part with the children's legos...

Upon leaving Sofia, we had sorted our possessions into three piles: one for the shipment to Kuwait, another to be shipped home to Minnesota (like skis), and another to be sold (electrical goods).  The last pile went to the only people we knew locally, our teaching colleagues. Because we didn't have an easy way to off load household items, we ended up with more going to Kuwait than was wise. We simply created another problem for ourselves when we had to deal with the wine glasses and corkscrews upon leaving Kuwait. 

Throughout all our moves, we never ended up shipping furniture or larger items like a car.  Those had to be bought on arrival.  Yet we continued to lug around those homey items like paintings and puzzles as if we couldn't do without them.  And every time our shipment arrived in a new place, it was like unpacking our lives all over again.

The internet has made it easier to buy what we need overseas.  It has also made it easier to sell these same items when it is time to move on. Today I posted several inexpensive household items on Facebook Marketplace. Normally I would have donated them or had a patio sale. I have put things outside in a tub marked free, but often the tub is taken and the things dumped in the trash. So I felt it best to post them online. Within minutes I was contacted by various users asking for the items, information about them or where they could pick them up.  It descended into chaos, with multiple bidders and paperwork and even on person asked me to deliver the items to them!  There is no easy way to separate ourselves from the clutter that we feel we need to live comfortably when it comes time to move. The only answer is to stop moving. But I do like the act of passing on my possessions to others so they can enjoy them as much as I.

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Closing a House: Opening Doors

Since my mother passed away a year ago, it has been a never ending process of clearing out her house. The first things to go were her clothes and clutter from drawers and wardrobes.  With the whole family together for the funeral, we enjoyed reminiscing as we waded through old photos and knickknacks that had been gifts from all of us over the years. She kept everything. Several old pieces passed down from our grandparents were set aside for someone to research the value of: silver cutlery, Chinese vases and original paintings. 

With my siblings and I living all around the world, we don't have the chance to just get together and chat.  But now we were forced to. There were decisions to be made, and work to be done.  I was able to accompany my brother to do the probate paperwork, and support him in the tedious tasks of form filling and bill paying. It was an incite into what my eldest brother, who lived nearest my mother, had quietly done for her care over the years. 

Traveling over to London, I soon found that the job of clearing the house ready for sale was too much for one person. Another brother arrived from the US and made use of his British drivers license to start making trips to the local dump. I made contact with local auction houses to see if we could put a value on the antiques. In the end we decided to make a list of pictures of what we had, and share it with family and friends. Family members asked me to save for them anything that reminded them of mom or grandma. We contacted her local church and several members came round to pick up items. I suddenly found myself interacting with old friends and getting to know neighbors who new my mother. Two of them invited me round for a meal.

We needed help moving some furniture and were fortunate to find a neighbor with a van. We bonded over taking apart wardrobes and shifting sofas. He gave us advice on how to get rid of other items.

By now my contacts list is growing to include people in this neighborhood of London.  My mother was very fortunate to spend her last years here, surrounded by such caring people. One neighbor drives a mail van and delivered some boxes to the house. Another came and took cuttings of my mother's roses. The lady in the fish & chips shop just round the corner remembers her also. And one sweet neighbor brought around a family who is interested in buying the house!

A local charity will pick up items like electronics and they very kindly came by with a truck. The driver was very interested in my grandfather's carved antique chest and we had to explain how we were not ready to part with that yet. We ended up storing that in yet another brother's garage along side the old diaries and translation work to which my parents had dedicated their life.

My brothers and I took a break from clearing out furniture and papers, to visit my parents' grave. They are buried in a wonderfully secluded little old church in Kent. After putting flowers on their graves, we visited others  belonging to family members that we only remembered from our childhood. Then a visit to nearby Canterbury to visit our cousin took us right past the big old house we holidayed in together.  More old photos started to fill in the blanks of those I never met, like my grandfathers, and others that have passed away more recently.  We discussed together the making of headstones and decided to add some Kaiwa language to the back of the stone. 

This short visit to take care of my mother's affairs has been a breath of fresh air. Not only have I, with help, managed to clear, sort, donate and share the majority of my mother's belongings, (and there were many!) but I connected with kind and caring people who loved my mother and were willing to help.  After being bogged down with grief, all the tasks of closing up a loved one's life, and being so far away and isolated from family, I am now feel I can breathe again, and sort out what is important and necessary when looking to the future.